"If a doctor or a CPR expert is in the store, please come to the mezzanine."

Elbows have been known to fly in Zabar's lox line, but this was different. A sixtyish man lay on his back by the coffee-maker display. "No pulse," said a dark-haired woman holding his wrist. Another shopper, blonde and elegant, knelt over the man and pressed her palms firmly into his chest. A third woman breathed into his mouth.

Just then, the PA blared: "Shoppers, we've got an incredible deal in our cheese department on French Boursin."

"I have a pulse," said the dark-haired woman. The man's chest shuddered, and his eyeballs rolled into place. Firemen with rescue equipment arrived and looked at the seemingly stable victim. Then they eyed the three women. "Who are you?" asked a fireman. "CPR practitioner," said the first. "Respiratory therapist," said the second. "Radiologist," said the third. The firemen seemed impressed.

So did the store manager. "If you got to have a heart attack," he said, looking relieved, "it's smart to have it at Zabar's."

Related:

• Archive: “Gotham: Life in the New City”
• Articles by Peter Hellman
• Table of Contents: Oct 12, 1998 issue of New York | Subscribe!